As the jewelled hand glittered in the lamp-light came the mutter of a distant drum on the moist darkness; zu Pfeiffer, abnormally irritable, raised his head, scowled, and muttering that he would have to issue an order to have the drums stopped, bent again to the uncongenial task of finishing the report due for headquarters before he left. The drum ceased; began again and was answered by another drum seemingly nearer at hand.
Five or ten minutes elapsed. As zu Pfeiffer took up a fresh sheet of paper a shot rang out followed instantly by yells. Zu Pfeiffer with an oath sprang to his feet, snatched at the revolver hanging above his camp bed and rushed out as a fusillade of shots mingled with wilder cries. The gruff coughs [pg 281] of the corporal in charge of the guard competed with the sharp barks of Sergeant Schultz. Zu Pfeiffer, bawling for a sergeant, ran to the great gate where the pom-pom was stationed. On the opposite hill red flashes of rifle fire darted downwards. Came another outburst of yelling. Forms of askaris scurrying to their places round the fence brushed by him on every side.
“Sergeant Schultz!” shouted zu Pfeiffer.
A figure in white appeared beside him in the darkness.
“Excellence!”
“Put the gun on them! Quick!”
At the bark of the sergeant the gun crew, already at their post, deftly manipulated the machine which coughed angry red bursts of flame into the darkness. The cries and howls ceased as suddenly as they had begun.
“Cease fire!” commanded zu Pfeiffer.
In the resulting stillness muttered shouts and cries from somewhere in the village below were punctuated by odd shots from the other hill.
“Sergeant Ludwig!” yelled zu Pfeiffer.